


Time Goes By

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, First Kiss, M/M, college sweethearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is five years old when he meets Dean Winchester; he's 24 when he marries him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Goes By

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to try my hand at something like this since I never have. I like the idea of tracing a relationship through points both important and relatively inconsequential. :-)
> 
> _I've gone back through and edited now that it's NOT two in the morning and my spelling and grammar skills are more functional. haha_

I.

Five-year-old Castiel has been watching the movers carry things out of the big trailer all morning when he sees a little boy walk out of the house next door.  He climbs up on the bottom rail of the short, white picket fence, his eyes barely above the top of it as he calls out, “Hey!”

The boy looks over, an eager smile spreading across his face as he detours from his path down the sidewalk and approaches Castiel instead.  He looks about Castiel’s age, as tanned and blonde as Castiel is pale and dark-headed.

"Are you going to live there now?"

"Yeah," the boy replies with a nod, "Me and my brother and my dad."

"You have a brother?" Castiel asks excitedly, feeling himself grin.

"Yeah, but he’s no fun," the boy replies.  "He’s just a baby."

"My brothers and sisters are all older than me," Castiel says, his lips twisting into a grimace, " _I’m_  the baby.”

"It’s okay as long as you don’t cry like Sam does," the blonde boy says with a heavy sigh, shooting a quick look back over his shoulder at his house before he looks up at Castiel still perched on the fence and adds, "I’m Dean."

"I’m Castiel," Cas replies.

"That’s a weird name," Dean says, lips pursed as though he’s tasted an unexpectedly sour gummy worm.

“ _Tell_ me about it,” Castiel grumbles.

II.

"It’s okay, Dean.  Just come  _on_ ,” seven-year-old Castiel says urgently, trying to drag his friend away from the fence.  ”We’re already gonna be in trouble.”

"Quit being such a baby, Cas," Dean replies, reaching through the chain link one more time.  With his arm extended as far as it will go, he  _finally_ manages to nab the mewling kitten on the other side; its piteous cries growing louder as Dean pulls it through the barely big enough squares of the fence.  ”Here’s your stupid cat.”

With the kitten deposited in his arms, Castiel feels a rush of relief that lasts until Dean starts sneezing; at which point he only feels guilty.  He hugs his kitten even as he says,  "I’m sorry I made you come with me.  It’s dumb that you’re gonna be in trouble, too."

"Shut  _up_ ,” Dean says.  He sneezes again, wipes his nose on the back of his hand and shines his gap-toothed grin on Castiel.  ”Just get your bike so we can get home before my dad does.”

III.

Castiel is the smallest boy in fifth grade, a fact he laments - not for the first time - as he looks up from his sprawl on the ground just in time to see Dean come from out of nowhere.  With fists flying, his best friend charges the bully who put Castiel on the ground with one punch.  Two seconds later the other boy hits the ground with a wail of pain.

"Leave Cas  _alone_ ,” Dean growls as he stands over the now-crying bully, fists on his hips.  ”Or you’ll get worse than a fat lip next time.”

Castiel wants to feel resentful as he reaches up to wipe the blood from his nose, but he’s too glad Dean showed up when he did to be mad about being rescued.  He pushes himself into a sitting position and wipes the dirt off his already purple elbow as the small crowd of boys disperses.  Before he can get to his feet, Dean’s hand bobs into view in front of his face.

"Thanks," Castiel says, taking Dean’s hand and using his sturdy friend to pull himself to his feet.  Dean’s eyes are narrowed in anger as he looks at the blood still trickling from Castiel’s nose.

"Why didn’t you tell me he was still beating you up?"  He asks as he puts his arm around Castiel’s shoulders to guide him toward the school building.  Castiel shrugs in answer, unwilling to admit he was too embarrassed to ask for Dean’s help.

IV.

"It’s hopeless," eighth-grader Dean says wearily, his head on Castiel’s kitchen table.  "I’m never gonna pass."

"I’m  _not_  going to high school by myself, Dean Winchester,” Castiel says stubbornly.  He pushes his shoulder against Dean’s and pulls the book out from under the defeated boy’s head.  ”I  _know_  you can do this.”

"My dad’s right, Cas," Dean says, grudgingly lifting his head as Castiel pulls the physical sciences book toward himself.  "I’m just stupid."

"Bullcrap," Castiel replies, rolling his eyes as he turns back to the spread page with the periodic table of elements.  "Now stop saying that and let me help you."

Three hours and two of Castiel’s mom’s brownies later, Dean aces a run through his flashcards with a triumphant grin.

V.

In the wee hours of the morning, high school senior Castiel tosses and turns in his bed.  Dean was supposed to call after he snuck back into his house from the college party Castiel begged him not to go to, but that should’ve been hours ago and he hasn’t heard a word.

Castiel is on the verge of dropping into a fitful sleep when he hears something hit his window, a soft but sharp noise he dismisses as his imagination until he hears it again.  The third time he hears the soft “clink”, he decides it sounds like pebbles hitting the glass.  When he crawls out of bed to investigate, he finds Dean standing under the full moon, staring up.

After changing into a pair of shorts, Castiel quietly makes his way downstairs and out the back door to where Dean is waiting on the porch swing for him.  He smiles when Cas sits down beside him and scoots a bit closer.

"I have to tell you something," Dean says, his words a little slurred and his eyes a little unfocused.

"It couldn’t wait?" Castiel asks drily.

"No," Dean answers, his voice softer.  He clears his throat and looks down at the porch as he pushes off with one foot to make the swing move.  Castiel chalks the little flip of his stomach up to the sudden movement of the swing.  Dean raises his head a moment later, wetting his lips as his eyes meet Castiel’s; his confession a whisper:  "I love you, Cas."

"You’re drunk," Castiel says instantly, reflexively.  Even though he doesn't believe what he heard, his head spins with the quiet words; his heart leaping into his throat as he looks into his best friend’s all-too-sincere eyes.

"Yeah," Dean concedes, rubbing his cheek absently with the heel of his hand.  "Yeah, I am..  but that doesn’t change the fact that I love you."

"If you mean it," Castiel says, swallowing his disappointment with himself for being too cowardly to return the sentiment, "tell me again in the morning.  When you’re sober."

Dean  _doesn’t_  tell him the next morning or any morning after; not that Castiel was expecting him to.

VI.

By a stroke of luck and more than a little string-pulling by Castiel’s dad; he and Dean end up roommates in their freshman dorm.  It’s everything Castiel had ever hoped his freshman year could be and then some; best of all, he knows Dean feels the same way.

Just as they have been since they were five-years-old, the two are inseparable; and perhaps because they have one another as a constant, they settle into college life with little difficulty.  Dean studies literature and Castiel studies physics, an arrangement that lets each of them pursue his strengths while helping the other through weaknesses.

When the time comes for them to make living arrangements for their sophomore year, they decide to get an off-campus apartment together.  After an exhausting day of moving, they celebrate the transition to their new place with a donated bottle of whiskey.  It seems like a great idea until Castiel realizes that his bed is still in pieces, leaned against the wall in his room and that Dean’s is no closer to being a place to sleep than his own.

"Huh.  I guess you’re right," Dean says when Castiel reminds him that they've no place to sleep - even as he’s pouring them both another glass of whiskey.  Castiel can’t help laughing at Dean’s ambivalence as he takes his replenished glass.

He tries to convince himself that it’s the alcohol - and nothing more - making his ears burn when Dean wraps an arm around his shoulders to pull their bodies flush together.

"To us!" Dean says, grinning wide as he clinks their glasses together and meets Castiel’s gaze.

"To us," Castiel echoes.  

He forgets to take the followup drink to the toast when he realizes Dean’s eyelashes are fluttering down over his glass-green eyes as he leans forward.  Suddenly, the dusting of freckles across Dean’s nose are closer than Castiel has ever seen them; his face so close Castiel can feel the heat rolling in waves off his pink cheeks.

When Dean’s lips brush tentatively against Castiel’s, both men shiver.  Castiel leans into the press of lips as Dean’s arm tightens around his shoulder and pulls him closer.  Their lips brush chastely again and again until Castiel feels as though his heart will explode from pounding so hard.  His fingers curl in Dean’s shirt and his stomach flips nervously as he parts his lips.

He’s never kissed a boy before, so he doesn’t know what to expect.  The tender press of Dean’s lips and the gentle tease of the tip of his tongue are more than unexpected, but somehow just right.  Dean tastes of whiskey, his kiss growing bolder by the second as his fingers fist in the sleeve of Castiel’s shirt.

A bolt of heat runs through Castiel and he pushes his tongue against Dean’s, eager to kiss and be kissed and experience everything else he’s never done;  _right this second_.  He doesn’t even try to stifle the moan that bubbles up from his throat when Dean tilts his head further and kisses him more firmly.

Castiel is so lost in the wet slide of their lips and the gentle press and release of Dean’s tongue against his own that he forgets he’s holding a glass of whiskey.  Dean gasps and jumps when it lands in his lap, breaking the kiss as he moves.  Castiel’s heart sinks and he bites his lips together to try to hide his ragged breathing.

Much to his surprise, Dean doesn’t get up.  He only moves enough to put his glass and Castiel’s on the coffee table in front of them before resuming his position with his arm around Castiel’s shoulders.  He’s still smiling as he leans his forehead against Castiel’s.

"I love you, Cas," he says, and this time Castiel believes it.

"Even though I ruined our first kiss?"  Cas asks, his cheeks warming with embarrassment.

"There'll be more kisses," Dean answers with a teasing laugh, pressing his lips quickly to Castiel’s as though in proof.

"I need to tell you something, Dean." Castiel says, pulling his head back to look Dean in the eye before things can go any further.  Dean’s smile falters, but he gives a short nod.  After nearly two years of holding onto the words and trying to find the right time - and the courage - to say them, Castiel whispers his own confession:  "I love you, too."

VII.

Three weeks to the day after Dean and Castiel sit side by side at their commencement with fingers interlaced, they stand before a justice of the peace the same way.  Castiel’s eyes fill with tears as the justice reads the standard vows, his mind a jumble of twenty years of friendship turned to love with the man in front of him.  When the justice pauses for an answer at the end, Castiel offers a shaky but heartfelt, “I do.”

The man in the black robe goes down the same list for Dean; asking if he promises to love, honor, and cherish Castiel for as long as they both shall live.  When the pause for  _his_  answer comes, Dean winks at Castiel and murmurs: “He knows I do.”


End file.
